Sentiment
by Stockholmwriting
Summary: They had never loved anyone but themselves. But when they meet each other, a game begins. Lethal and very passionate. To Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler is always the woman. And to Irene Adler, he is always the man.
1. Most Ardently

**Chapter One - Most Ardently**

"Although, I want the phone."

"Sherlock, I can't give it to you, it belongs to Mycroft and the government."

"Please." His voice sounded harsh and John felt astonished. He had never heard Sherlock ask for anything as long as he had known him. He remained hesitant for another half a second before he handed over the mobile phone to Sherlock. He decided to give the detective some privacy and muttered something about "tea" before he disappeared out of the door. Sherlock listened carefully after John's footsteps before he looked at the phone doubtfully. He couldn't explain his desire for the phone. _Wrong._ His mind corrected him automatically. He couldn't explain his desire for, and passion for that matter, _her._ He walked to the window and chuckled at the thought of her. Irene Adler. How very fitting her nickname suddenly seemed. The Woman. _The _Woman. He didn't realize that he had spoken the words aloud until John coughed conspiratorially behind his back. He rolled his eyes. "What?" he asked irritated. John simply stared. "This… This woman. Irene Adler." He clarified. "Yes?" Sherlock answered and felt quite uncomfortable. Not a good thing, his mind kept intoning. "You didn't lo… like her or anything like that?" Sherlock snorted. John and his sentiment, feelings were for mortals. And he was certainly _not _one of them. "Of course not." He sneered. "Will you leave me alone now, _please?" _He said sarcastically. John Watson sighed, not able to work his friend out. "Good night." He went out of the room for the second time that night, _and_, Sherlock added mentally, _hopefully the last_. He felt… torn? He didn't want to trouble John's average mind with his problems. _There shouldn't be a problem. _Sherlock glared out of the window and picked up the phone from the desk. He smiled to himself. For once, a brief moment, he had felt that there was someone out there, like himself. An equal. The Woman. He sighed; frustrated that he couldn't understand what he felt. He had rejected her, failed her. And then _saved _her. He looked at the phone, remembering her, her scent, her eyes. He groaned, and for the first time, he regretted that he had met Irene Adler. He knew there was something wrong. He didn't admit it to himself, but he had _felt_ something for Irene Adler. Love?

No, he decided and shuddered unintentionally at the very thought of _love_. Admiration? Closer. But not quite there yet. Something stronger than admiration. But _what?_ Sherlock felt disgusted with himself. He could read and work out every person he met, but still, _still _he couldn't figure out his own thoughts? _But that's not what's important, _he pointed out. Was he really willing to risk his own life for Irene Adler? _Yes_, he suddenly realized and groaned quietly. That was not good. Not good at all. The game was on, and she had an advantage. And he was fully aware that she, in the exact moment, planned her next move. Perhaps, Sherlock Holmes _didn't_ know that Irene Adler, professionally known as the Woman, sat in a dark hotel room in New Delhi in India and thought of a certain detective. Perhaps he knew, perhaps not, that she now smiled in the darkness and looked out of the window. She glanced up at the exact same moon that he was looking at. But I think, that none of them knew that they thought of each other. Most ardently.

**Please review, will update as soon as I can**


	2. An Unexpected Dinner Guest

**Chapter two – An Unexpected Dinner Guest**

Irene Adler woke up earlier than usual. She knew why, today was_ the_ day when she would visit Mr. Sherlock Holmes in London at 221B Baker Street. The morning was very fine indeed. Of course she had feelings for him. Apart from Sherlock, she was able to tell. But she was frightened, she couldn't possibly deny that. She was a professional, for god's sake! She was certainly _not _the person who was supposed to fall in love. Love made her weak and vulnerable, which she completely hated. She still hadn't forgotten the humiliating moment when she had realized that Sherlock Holmes had outwitted _her_. But she loved the game even more than the prize, and this time, she had an advantage. He had saved her from death and therefore admitting that he cared for her. Irene Adler dressed quickly, got a cab and arrived to the airport in New Delhi ten o'clock. She looked at her phone hesitantly, before texting him with yet a confident smile on her lips. _Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Too early for dinner? _

Sherlock Holmes didn't sleep. He thought it was extremely boring and meaningless. This quite sunny morning, he sat in his favorite armchair and drank a cup of coffee. He heard his flatmate dr. John Watson approach the front door.

"Good morning John, no mail?" He greeted him.

"No, not today. Have you solved the case with the missing lawyer?" John curiously asked and sat down opposite Sherlock. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"It was boring and simply _dull_. Child's play. I mailed his client yesterday; he went to Spain with the prosecutor's wife."

"The client?"

"No, _the lawyer._ Will you ever learn? And _please_ stop blogging about me." Sherlock added for no apparant reason at all, though this entire blogging issue got on his nerves. They remained silent while John was reading the paper. Suddenly a moan broke the silence. It came from Sherlock's phone and it was most definitely the moan of Irene Adler. Sherlock's eyes widened and John choked over his coffee. He went completely white.

"That wasn't…" He stuttered.

"It was." Sherlock confirmed as he read the message. He felt his insides twist like worms. _She was coming_, he realized at once and jumped on his feet. He started to walk around in the room, thinking furiously.

"Sher…" John interrupted himself quickly when he saw the glance Sherlock threw in his direction.

"Just go, John. Just go." Sherlock's voice was suddenly quiet and John went out of the flat immediately, grabbing his jacket on the go. "Sherlock." He said when he stood in the doorway. "Be careful." Sherlock nodded and John ran down the stairs, through the door and out. The crowded and loud city seemed suddenly peaceful compared to Sherlock's mind palace. For the first time in Sherlock's entire life, he had no plan. And when he realized that a cab parked outside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock stopped instantly to walk and listened fascinated when a familiar and high-pitched voice said: "Oh Mrs. Hudson, right? I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes, is he here? I'm a dinner guest of his."

**Review please?**


	3. Hide And Seek

**Chapter three – Hide and Seek**

"Mr. Holmes?" Irene Adler's voice sounded unsure, she felt certainly not as confident as she used to feel. She looked around in the flat, inspecting every room several times and decided that everything looked exactly the same as it had when she had visited the last time, a few years ago. "Mr. Holmes?" she called again, amused. She knew that he was here, in the flat. And if he wanted to play, she was most defiantly in.

Sherlock Holmes swore under his breath, he was hiding in the closet in his room. _How absurd and stupid of me, _he thought as he watched Irene looking for him with a playful look in her eyes. He felt suddenly warm and studied her more closely. She had apparently gained a few pounds since he had rescued her in Karachi. She wore a black, expensive-looking dress with diamond earrings. Her hair was longer and darker than the last time he had seen her and her eyes glowed with wit and lust. Her face made his muscles tense, but he simply ignored that. He also tried to overlook the fact that she was stunningly beautiful and his heart ached when he thought of the moment when he probably should reveal his feelings for her. He sighed quietly in the closet. Though, he discovered his mistake too late. Irene looked bewildered before she understood and grinned as she reached for the door. The door swung open and she met his horrified gaze and Sherlock, feeling slightly uncomfortable, stepped out of the closet. Irene raised a delicate eyebrow and licked her lips.

"Miss Adler, you look… the same." Sherlock made sure that his face didn't show any emotions at all.

"Thank you." She said, apparently pleased, and gestured toward the kitchen door. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Sherlock said and opened smoothly the door. He let Irene go first and she looked almost a bit smug. "Do you want coffee?" he asked as he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Perhaps something stronger, if you would be so kind?"

"Indeed." Irene eyed him suspiciously (He was usually not this accommodating) as he poured some red wine into two glasses. He offered her one without saying anything and watched her closely as she sipped the wine.

"That's good." She commented and set it down on the table. He hadn't touched his wine yet. "You expected me to come." She suddenly stated.

"Yes." He admitted and met her piercing brown eyes. She smiled, appreciating that he was at least being honest.

"You wanted me to come." Another statement, though much more daring than the last. Sherlock didn't answer and drank a mouthful of wine. He winced.

"Not my type of drink."

"Sherlock." The way she emphasized his name made his heart beat harder than he thought was possible.

"That's usually my name, yes."

"You wanted me to come." Irene enjoyed their conversation to the fullest and was very observant, she badly wanted him to make a mistake. Sherlock sighed and shifted position. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, suddenly looking much more focused. Irene smiled even wider and felt extremely expectant; he was trying to read her.

"You got married." It was supposed to be a question but it only sounded like a state-of-fact.

"Yes." She rolled her eyes; of course he would notice _that._

"You got divorced… No, forget what I said, he died." Irene froze and her eyes widened; he was better than she remembered. _How could he possibly know…?_

"You have been staying in India."

"Yes."

"For six months."

"Yes."

"You don't intend to stay in London more than a week."

"Yes."

"You knew I was expecting you to come."

"Yes."

"You came here to tell me that you have feelings for me."

**Ha! Such a cliffhanger… Thank you Ida Deidre and star jelly for reviewing. If you review, I'll be very happy or I'll just sit here all by myself *sobs* feeling lonely and write my FF.**


	4. War

**Chapter four - War**

Irene Adler smiled briefly before she carefully composed her expression. It was the same old (well) familiar Sherlock Holmes that sat in front of her, though they hadn't met in years, and that comforted her in a strange, but still pleasant way.

"Why did you save me?" She let the question hang in the air and smoothly avoided to answer Sherlock's quite daring statement. _It is all a part of the game_, she convinced herself. Irene Adler never _lost_ without a proper fight. Or war for that matter. Sherlock hesitated but she could see a decision grow stronger and stronger in his grey and constantly observing eyes.

"It would be a shame if a clever mind as yours stopped to exist in such a… violent way." He confessed and met her amused gaze. Irene couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips much longer. His explanation was perfectly expected and she leaned forward in the unpretentious kitchen chair when she murmured:

"But smart people die all the time! Why me, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock was suddenly even more careful and alert, understanding that she wanted him to take a step in the wrong direction. _Or the right one_ suggested an optimistic and quite unfamiliar voice that sounded suspiciously like his. He patiently ignored it.

"I don't know any smart _people_ apart from you, he spat. The expression on Sherlock's face was priceless and, much to Irene's delight, he flushed deeply.

"So you would say you know me? Though we haven't met more than a couple of times. And that, if I may _remind _you darling, is years ago." Irene's voice was fervent with triumph and Sherlock flinched noticeably when Irene had called him _darling_. She smirked confidently and found, to her great pleasure, that his body language betrayed his ice-cold cladding. Sherlock eyed her appreciatively and smiled humorlessly back. She was way better than he recalled which meant more fun! He cleared his throat to hide his sudden delight.

"Touché, Miss Adler." He simply uttered. Irene's eyes narrowed. Did he give up? _Now? _That was definitely not like the Sherlock Holmes she thought she knew and the disappointment was awfully devastating.

"You have forgotten something since the last time we saw each other", he said in a rush, "In the end, your sentiment betrayed you. Your pulse was elevated, your pupils dilated. After all this time, you're still hopelessly "sherlocked", aren't you? I don't _ever_ forget, remember that." Aha. She should've seen that coming. He wasn't giving up on her, he just teased her. And truth to be told, that really turned her on.

"Touché, Mr. Holmes."

"So you're not denying it then?"

"Didn't say I wasn't."

"Yes, you're quite right. Why _are_ you here then?"

"Every heart harbors a secret. I thought you knew that." She told Sherlock with an innocent smile. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. _Why is everybody so sentimental all of a sudden?_ He wondered prickly and looked up, his eyes seeking Irene's.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock's voice smoldered with sarcasm.

"Pity." Irene whispered delicately and stretched her hand across the table to touch the back of his cold hand with her fingertips. "If this was the end of the world and this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me, Mr. Holmes?

"What deductions lead you to that conclusion? Or do you have any particular reason _at all_ believing so?" He darkly murmured and his long fingers trailed gently up along her carpus. He took her pulse and she could practically feel her heart-rate accelerate. Quickly, she grasped his wrist tight as well and to her astonishment was his pulse as elevated as her own. Once more, their body language betrayed them, though at the same time it made the game far more interesting. Irene smirked, obviously pleased with herself.

"How similar we are, Mr. Holmes."

"No." He disagreed.

"How so?"

"I would never take off my clothes to impress."

"Pity." She blankly said, not letting his hand escape her fast grip. "But if this was the very last night of our existence, would you have dinner with me?" She stubbornly urged.

"I'm not hungry." He insisted as well.

"What are you then?" The question was just a faint whisper and they sat so close to each other that their tips of their noses almost touched.

"Starving." He exhaled. Irene's eyes widened and she carefully scrutinized his sudden change of expression. His eyes became hungrier and she could see the blood rush to his face before she passionately pressed her lips against his.

Irene Adler's mouth was incredible warm and he enjoyed the sensation of her soft kisses and the feeling of her breath against the surface of his skin. She pulled away, rather reluctantly, to catch her breath.

"Finally!" She exclaimed and briefly rested her forehead against his. "Can I take your order, Mr. Holmes?"

**So, I've noticed that a lot of people have favorited/alerted this story (which is great) but I still haven't got so many reviews. Tell me your opinions, even if you think it's horrible I still want to know!**


	5. Until The Next Time

**Chapter five – Until The Next Time **

It was an unusual sunny morning in April in the north of London and the birds sang a rather hesitant chant outside the scrubby houses on Baker Street. A majority of them frightened flew away when they sensed a motion inside the apartment 221B. The door abruptly opened, disturbing the peace that lay over London that very daybreak.

Irene Adler smiled to herself as she sent a text to a certain, and by that time, very familiar number. She then called a cab and eyed the flat she recently had slept in thoughtfully. She almost shilly-shallied for a brief moment before she climbed into the cab that suddenly approached the given address and disappeared once more, as she never had been there.

However, she _had_ been there. And she didn't regret it in the slightest. Neither did Sherlock Holmes, which was for sure. But unfortunately, he was still asleep. Some would say drugged but Irene wasn't very fond of that word. She preferred asleep. And honestly, it fits more with the tranquility in our story.

Some of the braver birds had returned to Baker Street, to continue their singing, and this time they were interrupted by a man who looked awfully tired. John Watson opened the same door as Irene Adler had done just minutes ago but instead of leaving, he was going inside.

"Sherlock?" He called and went up the stairs. When his friend remained silent, he decided to check whether he was fine or not. Sherlock's bedroom was usually a mess but John had never seen anything like it in his entire life. The clothes were recklessly thrown on the floor and most of the furniture was turned upside down. In the bed, Sherlock was sleeping peacefully and John chose to "unintentionally" wake him up.

"Sherlock. It's ten a.m. Wake up now." Sherlock didn't move. John sighed tiredly and rolled his eyes. "SHERLOCK!" He shouted and poked his shoulder. "WAKE UP!" Still no reaction. John strode angrily out of the room to make some coffee. As he approached the kitchen, he remembered the actual reason for leaving in such haste last night. Sherlock's clothes. The furniture. _Irene Adler. _Oh my god, but then Sherlock must be…

"John?" groaned Sherlock. John blinked several times before he forced himself to answer, trying to sound as natural as possible.

"Yes?"

"John, I have the most awful headache."

"Oh…pity." The word made Sherlock's mind to remember. _There had been a woman, Irene Adler. She came to visit. And then… no. No way! _Sherlock considered the possibilities vigilantly. _She must have drugged me… But she couldn't… Oh yes, she could. How stupid of me. _She was Irene Adler, the one and only woman. Of course she could, _dear_ Sherlock.

Suddenly the memories flashed through Sherlock's extraordinary mind incredible fast and he realized in horror that she had won this time. He sighed quietly and leaned his head in his hands. Strangely, he didn't regret it, the winning so to speak. And he was sure that she didn't either. He scoffed. _Sentiment. _And then, just a second after that dangerous cogitation, another forbidden word. _Love? _Sherlock froze when he heard his phone moan loudly, though he almost smiled when he read the cryptic sentence.

_Till the next time, Mr. Holmes._

**Remember to review. By the way, the story's name will be changed to "Sentiment".**


	6. Human

**Chapter six - Human**

The aroma of cherry and plum trees in spring bloom perfumed the air and the people of London were genuinely happy and light-hearted. The sun shone almost effortlessly twelve hours a day and the children went by their bikes down the River Thames to lave their feet in the chilly water. However, there existed a person who wasn't affected by the marvelous weather. He considered a meaningless issue, as the meteorological conditions, utterly boring and possibly even duller than ordinary individuals. Because the latest month had Sherlock Holmes been fanatical and rather obsessed with individuals. At least one of them.

Irene Adler was nothing like any other woman Sherlock Holmes had ever encountered. She was truly one of her kind, and it bothered Sherlock that he wasn't able to let her go. He thought of her every awake second and longed for her scent, her eyes and her witty mind. He assured himself that he just wanted to beat Irene Adler intellectually after their last meeting when she unfortunately had scored. But a part of him knew that there still remained something more, simmering under the surface of his unemotional façade. Also, a part of him knew that it was love.

Not the clichéd sort of love. He didn't love her in the "live-happily-forever-after" kind of way. Though he did love her, he just wasn't courageous or heroic enough to admit it yet.

He heard from her again early in May. He tried to behave in front of John, Lestrade and Molly Hooper, though he clearly wasn't able to hide his sudden delight. John instantly got concerned, assuming that Sherlock had started smoking again. Then he heard the sound from the phone and his eyes simply widened, before they narrowed suspiciously. John kept composed for more than a week before he anxiously brought up the subject. John Watson was absolutely positive about three things. One, Sherlock Holmes had never before been in love with another human-being. Two, he could easily change his text tone if he liked to, but he was somehow fond of her moan, and three; Sherlock Holmes was more or less enamored with Irene Adler. An unusual early twilight decided John Watson to confront Sherlock Holmes. He cleared his throat and wondered for the tenth time if he was completely out of his senses.

"Sherlock." He stated hesitantly. Sherlock knew just about exactly what John had figured out during the week and tried to hide his amusement about the discomfort the doctor obviously felt.

"Yes, John?"

"You know… a month ago, Irene Adler was here and… well, I went out but I assume that you and she…or assume, I saw you the morning after and your clothes… anyway, I've heard her… tone a couple of times the latest days and I was actually wondering if you… just if you… you know?" He took a ridiculously deep breath and gave Sherlock a hortatively glance.

"No, this time I'm completely uncertain of the matter. Do explain." John scoffed impatiently and the expression on his face was simply priceless.

"I was wondering if you somehow… _think_ of her in a…special way?"

"That didn't make any sense." He dryly pointed out.

"For god's sake, Sherlock! Do you love Irene Adler?" The room suddenly froze, the two men didn't even breathe for a brief second. John looked terrified and almost scared as he scrutinized Sherlock's grave features. Sherlock didn't reply at once.

"What observations lead you to that deduction?"

"I… have no idea. But I'm rather sure of it." A long pause followed and Sherlock carefully avoided meeting John's gaze. He remained silent and peacefully sat in his armchair, reading the newspaper.

"Are you going to answer my question?" Sherlock sighed dramatically and doubtfully looked up, as if the very ceiling held an unfamiliar, interesting case.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Is the answer." Sherlock rolled his eyes, clumsily put the paper away and walked over to the main window, still not facing John properly. John wasn't sure how he would handle the issue. Sherlock and sentiment were two foreigners that wouldn't cooperate in the first place. Or the second for that matter.

"You know it's ok to be human sometimes, Sherlock." He quietly ensured him and stubbornly looked at his back, as if he was trying to convince it to turn around. Sherlock didn't comment the statement and John chose to give him some privacy. He headed for the door and opened it quickly, the abrupt sound of it in the dead silence made John almost jump.

"I'll be at Sarah's if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

"No reason at all."

**I'm back! I've been sick for a couple of weeks but now do I really feel fine again. Guys, remember to review. No reviews, no new chapter.**

**XoXoXo**

**Frida**


	7. The Final Text

John didn't come back. For an outcast, it would probably seem like Sherlock didn't care for the doctor. Though, he _was_ tremendously fond of John Watson. Sherlock hadn't many associates and generally avoided relationships and acquaintances. John was his only friend, someone who truly cared for him. Though, Sherlock usually acted like an arrogant arsehole. Especially when he assisted Gregory Lestrade or others from Scotland Yard.

With Irene Adler was it different, without hesitation. _She_ was different. She was everything he longed for, an ingenious companion and an individual who never bored him. She was his new favourite brand of heroin, instead of solitude and work. Because he wanted her as he never had wanted anyone, or anything, else. He would be foolish if he denied that. He had probably wanted her since she had figured out the complication with the hiker and the boomerang. She had entered his world and had become _the _woman. The woman who beat him. The woman who had outsmarted him. Those were the facts, the uncomplicated reasons why he wanted and desired her. Sherlock Holmes got alarmed when he thought of his other motives. She was forbidden. Or to be more precise, _it _was forbidden. Sentiment. Lust. Love.

However, I'm tired of describing how Sherlock Holmes felt for Irene Adler. This story is about their relationship and love that never was supposed to exist in the first place. But it did. And they knew it. Someone would lose. The question was, who?

He didn't resign until July. They had frequently texted for two months about nothing and everything when he hesitantly sent her the text. The final text.

_Dinner? – SH_

He received a reply two minutes and thirty seconds from that he sent the text.

_Finally gotten hungry? – IA_

_Yes, obviously – SH_

_Tomorrow, Lower Regent Street 11, 8 p.m. – IA_

He wouldn't miss it for the world.

**AN: I'm so sorry for the ridiculously short chapter. The next one will be longer. However, this is how I'm going to write my stories from now on.**

**This story (Sentiment) will be a nightmare for a Johnlock shipper. It's going to be kids, marriage and so on in the spirit of Holmes and Adler. **

**The Consulting Detective and The Dominatrix will be a bit more realistic. More betrayal, more angst, ****more sex.**** I will update it as soon as I can and it will be a loooooooong chapter, promise. **

**The Heart of the Ocean will not be updated until June. But I'll write it during the summer.**

**If you had completed me will be updated when I have the time. I will also write a new one-shot every week. **

**XoXoXo**

**Frida**


	8. Always Wanted You

"What do you think about us?" The question came out of nowhere and it seemed as the very atmosphere between them froze into ice. They were both lying on the floor in a darkened hotel room. The address was Lower Regent Street 11, the clock would strike ten o'clock in just a couple of seconds and Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler had been quite busy the latest two hours. As in physically busy. Sherlock Holmes cleared his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"No, obviously. Why would I otherwise bother asking?"

"Because you're a frightened man. You're frightened by this." She gestured towards her naked body. He remained silent for a brief second. Her breathing quickened a bit as he gently stretched his hand over her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"I'm not afraid of anything humanity has faced so far." He mumbled in her ear. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" He asked, sounding slightly bewildered.

"No." She shortly replied. They weren't certain of what to say. Now when they were undressed and naked (not just literally) and the sparkling thrill of sex no longer surrounded them, they desperately tried to create a distance between the two of them. Sentiment was not something they desired and longed for. But sometimes, complications are unavoidable.

"Irene, I don't know if I can do this." She instantly grasped what he meant.

"How so?" She asked, almost softly.

"I… I…" She stared at him in wonder. She had never seen him unsure of himself, struggling to find the right words. He suddenly seemed so human. If the situation had been different, she would probably say something witty to tease him. But she decided to spare him the mortification. It was dark, so she could not see his expression. She hesitantly lifted her right arm and laid her hand against his cheek. It was cold and his skin was smooth as silk. She let her hand rest there, and he didn't raise an objection. They had had sex twice, but this gesture seemed more intimate in a bizarre way.

"When John asked me if I loved you, I said yes. But that's not true." She felt the sadness embrace her cringing heart as he had uttered the words. Of course he didn't love her. He wasn't able to love another human-being, and she should have realised. She was, however, strong enough to survive without him. After all, she didn't need his love. Loneliness could be her protection as well.

"I am not capable to love another. However, I _need _you. I've always wanted and desired you. I guess I love you in a way, if you ask ordinary people. But I'm not an ordinary individual, as are you. I… really don't know what to say except that I don't want you to go. I never want you to leave." His voice smouldered with true lust as he said the last sentence. She leaned in to kiss him and he eagerly captured her lips as she crushed her lips to his. The kiss was passionate and forceful, and not tender in any way.

"You know…" She panted as he placed kisses on her neck and collarbone. "For a second, I thought you tried to tell me that you never wanted to see me again." He flinched.

"How on earth did you make that conclusion?" He murmured against her bare skin.

"You said that you had told John… about that and that it wasn't true. I thought you didn't want me."

"Didn't you hear me? I've always wanted you."

**AN: Aww… Sherlock/Irene fluff. Will update soon. *tries to look confidence inspiring***

**REVIEW!**


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